


A Comet Slipping Past

by ComplimentaryCuller



Series: Among the Stars verse [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gamzee trying to fix the mess GH made of the Mirthful church, M/M, sermon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 15:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13344213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComplimentaryCuller/pseuds/ComplimentaryCuller





	A Comet Slipping Past

Gamzee gave a toothy smile, spreading his hands welcomingly to the congregation, to his Family.

“Brothers and sisters and siblings of any kind in Mirth,” he began. “Family all, in worship of those most holy.”

The purplebloods watched eagerly, waiting, hanging onto his words.

Gamzee raised his head proudly, horns straight, paint looping and intricate. “Are we not the _strongest_ of the dwellers of the land?” He asked. 

"Whoop whoop!" the congregation called back.

“Are we not the longest living, those gifted with longevity?”

_“Whoop whoop!”_ The Family answered.

"Are we not the _Seers of Miracles_ and _Singers of Tales?"_

_“WHOOP WHOOP!”_ They cried in answer.

“Are we not the **CHOSEN** of the **MESSIAHS**?” Gamzee roared.

**_“WHOOP WHOOP!”_ **

_"_ _Are we not the **LORDS of FEAR** and **MUSES of THE DARK CARNIVAL?"**_

The warmbloods who'd come to see what their General’s moirail's sermon would be like were starting to look uncomfortable.

“Are we **not,”** Gamzee snarled, “those who are in the utmost HOLY service of our **Lord,** our most high **_Angel_ of the _Double Death?”_**

The congregation screamed, words lost in their fervor.

The warmbloods began edging towards the exits.

“Now, my most motherfucking Mirthful sibs, for the past millennia, what have we been _doing_ with these gifts?”

The congregation stilled.

Gamzee curled his lip. “We've let ourselves become motherfucking _cocky_. We've become _complacent_. Acting as if we're better than others, not because of who we serve, but because of _some petty motherfuckin’ shit like the warmth in our veins and the color we bleed._ Now ain't that motherfucking _shameful?"_

The congregation was silent, sober faced. Ashamed.

Gamzee looked almost pained. “We’ve forgotten our roots, my most whimsical sibs. We've forgotten where we _came from, who we_ are.” He shook his head. “Our scripture has gotten motherfucking _twisted_ , contorted into shapes that are most up and _offensive_ to me _._ We've lost sight of the miracles, fam, so caught up in the _harsh_ that we've forgotten the _whimsy_.” He sighed. “It is downright _shameful_.”

He looked into the crowd, purple oculars full of determination. He spread his arms. “Did not the Laughing One say to slam the wicked elixir with all who will come to share it with a good sib? Did not the Weeping One say that to disrupt the Mirth in another was as if you were disrupting the very Mirth in him?”

He blinked slowly at them.

“The Bards still speak, my most Mirthful motherfucking Family, but we _must listen_ . Whoop mother _fucking_ whoop, brethren.”

_“Whoop whoop!”_ Came the answering call, more sober than usual.

The choir called them to hymns, and the Mass carried on, albeit with more solemnity (which still wasn’t much) than usual for the Church.

At the end of the service, after the final blessings and faygo chugging contest, Gamzee crossed himself with the sign of the Twin Messiahs, and looked at the congregation with a proud smile. “Go in Mirth most motherfucking holy, and remember my words.”

The tent emptied, and Karkat came out from where he’d been lurking in the shadow of a tent fold. “Nice job, Gamz,” he said. He kissed him on the jaw softly.

Gamzee watched the stragglers with inscrutable oculars. “Let’s just hope it motherfuckin’ sticks.”


End file.
